


The Silence In Black And White

by roliver4



Series: The Skate Park Chronicles [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Budding Love, Foster Care, Orphans, Punk high schoolers, Skater Lexa, little babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:17:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roliver4/pseuds/roliver4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>private school outcast Clarke Griffin is going through her rebellious not-so phase phase which is driving her mother crazy and includes sneaking out, breaking in, and skating through the town when she should be in school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silence In Black And White

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt was: They told us not to go in there. But who the fuck is listening to adults anyway?!
> 
> I didn't actually proofread this.... and I'm exhausted... so enjoy
> 
> written to THE SILENCE IN BLACK AND WHITE by Hawthorne Heights
> 
> add me on tumblr and let's chat: roliver901.tumblr.com
> 
> i follow back!

They told us not to go in there. But who the fuck is listening to adults anyway?! I mean, we make better decisions than half of those old scum-bag mother-fuckers running this country anyway. Taking the cigarette from Bellamy’s mouth, I watch as Lincoln kicked his skateboard towards the doorway of the old abandoned mill, Octavia following closely behind with the straps of her helmet flapping behind her with each time that her foot made contact with the concrete below.

 

Polaris, the blue letters should have said, but instead they were faded and scorched from the fire that had consumed part of the entryway back in the early 90s. Shit, this place had been here forever. Instead, we read POL  IS-- and knew this was going to be home.

 

I mean, I have a home. Unlike my friends here, and sometimes much to my dismay, I have a home with an overprotective mother who is losing her shit right now because her “little princess” is straying from the straight and narrow, but I have a home none the less….

 

But that doesn’t mean that I don’t need this home. I mean, these assholes here, Lincoln with his righteous anger for each of us and willingness to fight anyone who crosses us, Bellamy with his fatherly protection and asshole comments about everything I do-- but really he just wants to help, Murphy with his rogue prince outlook, pushing every boundary he can but still somehow doing what’s right when it’s right, Octavia with her rebel ‘I was born for this’ attitude and ‘i won’t take no shit’ aura…

 

Then there’s Lexa. Lexa, with her sense of duty to each of us. Lexa, with her willingness to sacrifice. Lexa, with her protective nature and call to justice. Lexa, with her….

 

“Get your own, Griffin,” Bellamy Blake argued, reaching out his busted hand for the cigarette that now dangled from my lips and breaking my train of thought to bring me back to the side of this ditch with my friends. Irritating Bellamy was a pastime of mine now, and taking his cigarettes was the first way to irritate him-- not to mention the number one way to irritate my mother when I returned home reeking of cigarette smoke and whatever chaos we managed to accomplish that day. The second way to score the number one spot on Bellamy’s shit list was probably to ruffle his hair when he was groaning and grunting out of irritation beside me.

 

So what did I do?

 

I ruffled his hair.

 

“Jesus Christmas, stop,” the older boy tore away, waddling with his bike still between his knees, taking up the space next to Lexa instead.

 

The commander of our clique tilted her head past Bellamy’s oversized fro of a curly mane to flash a smile at me. Grinning back, I couldn’t help but melt at her gesture. She was gorgeous, even if I couldn’t tell her.

 

I mean, how do you tell someone that they’re perfect?

 

Especially Lexa fucking Forrester.

 

With her stupid ripped up fucking pants and fitted tshirts, her perfect fucking hair that covers her left eye-- looking like she just stepped out of a rock concert. And the beanies that hold that stupid fucking hair out of her eyes and the stupid fucking bracelets that cover her arms and all have a meaning and a story to tell…

 

Lexa fucking Forrester...

 

“You going in?” She asks with her raspy tone while punching Bellamy in the shoulder. The boy massages his arm while muttering something under his breath before kicking off of the curb and following the same path as his sister and her boyfriend. “After you princess.”

 

I smile at her use of the name that Bellamy gave me on our first meeting. Honestly, it’s kind of stuck and although it irritated me before, I’m totally fine with it now.

 

Especially when it comes from her lips.

 

Kicking off of the curb, I drop myself into the ditch, my skates carrying me way easier down the small incline than they had when they dropped me into the pool the first time. Actually, much to my mother’s dismay, I had taken quite nicely to this whole punk rock skater girl thing. The red streaks that remained from my terrible coloring attempt were there only remnants of the first heart attack that my mother had.

 

See, Abby Griffin, she’s a hard ass. My mother had not been adjusting too well to these changes. When my grades started dropping, she hired me a tutor. That was a bust because it wasn’t like I couldn’t do the work-- I just didn’t want to. Then, when our in-home alarm system caught me sneaking in after curfew (HA! As if Abby ever knew if I was in my room or not), she had her boyfriend Marcus talk to me about the dangers of teen rebellion-- as if Kane was a saint himself. Fuck, that man basically told his mother to go to hell during her dying wish, but I guess he found Jesus or some shit like that. Finally, when I came home reeking of cigarettes after the school called about my unusual absence from third period, my mother had all she could take.

 

She hired a nanny.

 

I, Clarke Griffin, 16 year old Arc Preparatory Academy Dean’s List, National Honor Society Inductee on the fast track for Ivy League Universities have a goddamned nanny.

 

But hey, Maya is about as useless as a fucking pug for a guard dog. Literally all I had to do was tell her that I was going out with friends and feed her the names of some assholes from school, telling her about what their parents do for a living-- doctors, teachers, astronauts, some shit like that-- and she let me go without question.

 

I mean, what the fuck kind of nanny does that?

 

I guess I lucked out…

 

So that’s how I found myself here, former elite, scholarship level ice skater rollerblading into an abandoned warehouse known specifically where are all of the hoodrats and hoodlums come to cause mayhem and destruction.

 

The metal delivery doors in front of us were latched tightly, the graffiti marking the territory for multiple clans, each name covering the last. Azgeda, Floudon, Sangeda, Boudalan, each with their own symbols and slurs about their predecessors. “What did we decide to call ourselves?” Lincoln asks, one foot still on the board below, his backpack sliding slowly from his shoulders. He unzips a pocket, pulling out a green can of spray paint and shaking it.

 

“TriKru,” Lexa says as Lincoln begins writing the letters large across the bright blue of Azgeda.

 

“That Ontari bitch from fucking Azgeda is going to be pissed at you,” Lincoln laughs as he fills in the spaces between the lines, the green paint bleeding down the wall. I watch closely as my tattooed friend completes his artwork while Lexa continues to grumble something else about the woman from the the Azgeda subdivision.

 

You see, the way that the city of Arcadia is divided up is sort of fucked up. I guess that’s how it is with all big cities, but I feel like Arcadia is worse. We go from one extreme to the other and no one realizes how fucked up everything actually is.

 

We have the super well off area that I was born into where houses are far too fucking large and filled with way too much shit. In this area, the parents don’t know their children and normally hire others to raise them. This is the Sky Village. The subdivisions of Sky Village are named weird shit like Aero, Hyrdo, and Agro-- as if they actually do shit. The street names are fucking crazy too, each matching some stupid theme that makes the sound like factory workers or farmers. But no, Sky Village is just a bunch of pretentious fucks who think that their money make them better.

 

The “middle class” as the people in Sky Village who sip their fucking Bloody Marys with my mother like to pretend exists is actually just the area where we go to buy our groceries. If we were to be honest about what Azgeda looks like, it’s mainly a bunch of white people who like to pretend like they’ve been fucked by the world but they rose through the ashes to make something great. This is where we find people like Raven Reyes who has a scholarship for Arc Prep because of some stupid mathlete competition that she won, but honestly, Azgeda will never be Sky Village-- no matter how hard they try. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing at all… At least the parents in Azgeda try to have relationships with their fucked up little hellion children when they take them to church and eat their hamburger helped on tuesdays and have pizza night on fridays.

 

“The Ground” as the fuckers in Sky Village call it is where I’ve come to spend most of my time. The Ground is where my friends are. The ground is a small area within the center of town that consists of different neighborhoods and different types of people.

 

The ground is now home to me… even if I’ll always be the Skykru Princess.

 

“Alright, let’s go fuckers,” Lincoln smirks, tossing the empty can to the ground just as as blue lights round the corner, a small wail of the siren ringing out against the silence broken only by the cop car.

 

Within the slur of profanities escaping my group, I’m lost, my legs freezing up.

 

I can’t go to juvie.

 

Fuck, I can’t get in trouble.

 

I can’t get caught in the middle of The Ground.

 

I’m not supposed to be here.

 

With the ringing in my ear intensifying, everthing around me begins growing dark until I feel it. Lexa’s hand grabs my arm tightly pulling me as she runs, kicking up her skateboard into her hands as she does. “Go Clarke!” She yells, shoving me in front of her. My wheels struggle against the ground below, kicking up dirt and gravel as I try to run, catching every grassy patch along the way. Before I know any better, the concrete meets cold against my back, the ringing in my ears migrating into my skull as I smell blood, the sight of the clouds above coming into my view. “Shit Clarke,” Lexa grumbles, tugging at the skates on my feet as I continue to stare at the sky, my body still frozen solid. The cold air sweeps over my left, sock-covered foot as she yankes the first skate off, tossing it to the side. The second one follows soon behind and, as if I’m an animal being freed from a trap, fight-or-flight kicks in, rolling me over to my stomach and onto my feet in no time.

 

“Let’s go!” Bellamy shouts from the gate about a thousand feet ahead where he’s holding the bottom up, waiting for the brunette and I. “Come on!”

 

I want to shout at the asshole that I’m coming, but wasting oxygen isn’t exactly on my to-do list at the moment. Hell, I can barely breathe as it is and with my feet screaming at me as I stomp across the gravel and broken glass of this parking lot in disrepair, all I can really focus on is that hole that he’s making in the fence.

 

We have to get to the hole.

 

And we almost do, but just as my chest finds its way to the ground, the metal scraping across my thin t-shirt and clawing its way down my back as I fight against its snare, I hear the shouts and grunts behind me. I don’t even have to look as the thud follows a small shout, the sounds of Lexa gasping and coughing filling my ears.

 

They got her.

 

Standing to my feet quickly, my fingers wrap around the rings of the chainlink fence, my face pushed against the cold metal that contrasts against the heat in my cheeks. “Lexa!” I yell as Bellamy joins me, tugging at my arm.

 

“Just go!” She replies, the dirt on her face streaking across her cheeks as the cop lifts her to her feet, her arms tucked tightly behind her back. “I’ve got this. You go!”

 

Bellamy’s pulls at my wrist become too much as he pulls me from the gate, yelling similar phrases until I turn to follow him, no longer feeling the burning in my legs or feet.

 

Returning home was weird. Maya had some questions about where my shoes were and my only answer was “Oh, hmmm, that’s weird.” It’s not like I could tell her that they were in the backpack of a girl who was tackled by the cops after we vandalized a building. It’s not like I could tell her that I left them in an abandoned parking lot after behind chased across a massive lot of grass and broken conrete and god knows what before crawling under a metal fence with a group of mostly homeless youth. It’s not like I could tell her the truth, and since I’m bad at lying, I just didn’t.

 

In fact, that’s what I did most these days.

 

Making my way upstairs, I showered and changed, tossing my ripped up shirt into the trashcan behind our house before my mother could see it, then returned to my own life behind my closed door…

 

Exactly as it was before Lexa.

 

What would I do now? I mean, sure, the rest of the group is great, but what one earth would TriKru do without their commander. Hell, would they even like me? Or was that just Lexa?

 

Turning up the music, I threw myself onto the bed, taking in the scent of the pillow below me before screaming violently into it, rolling the corners of it around my ears.

 

Then it happened. Once at first, then three at once, then with a bombardment of sound that drew me to my window, the rocks continued to pelt the glass until I pulled the curtain back to see them.

 

My friends standing in the mittle of my backyard, each with a fistfull of small gravel pieces from the walkway leading to the pool, tossing the small rocks against the window and bringing a smile to my cheeks. Pushing open the window, I wave at the group, lifting my finger to my lips. “Wait,” I whisper to the group below, holding that same finger out to them.

 

“Hurry up,” Bellamy shouts, receiving a shush and a quick punch in the arm from Octavia who then turns to me, motioning for me to come down.

 

After rushing around my room and gathering a couple of pairs of clothes within my backpack, I toss the pack down to the group, Lincoln catching it and handing it down to Octavia who wraps it around the handles of her bike. “Let’s go Sky Princess,” Lincoln jokes, waving me down. As I step onto the foor of the sunroom below my room, my heart rushes. I’ve never actually snuck out before. No, I’ve only snuck back in because I’ve never been fully rebellious, but with my new black skinny jeans and grey tank holding the name of some band that I had never heard of before this group, I scale way down the stone wall of the house, carefully placing my foot on each rock until I reach the grass below.

 

“Awesome!” Octavia laughs, reaching out a hand that holds my skates by their strings, the dirt from the old parking lot still caked against the black and orange plastic. “Now, let’s go get Lexa.”

 

Wait? What?

 

Turning towards the small brunette only once we leave my yard, the confusion spreads across my face as I furror my eyebrows, opening my mouth twice before I actually speak. “We’re breaking her out of jail?” I ask, everyone laughing as Lincoln reaches out a hand to the back of my neck, pulling me into his grasp. He smells like the inside of a Taco Bell bag mixed with Old Spice. It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds, but it’s still a bizzare mixture for my nostrils as I turn away from his chest.

 

“No, sweet Sky Princess,” he says as he pushes me away gently, my feet catching the ground and tripping me slightly as I try to match stride with them. “She’s at her mom’s house.”

 

“Her mom?” I practically shout, throwing my hands up in confusion. The rest of the group stops, starring at me in the middle of the street as I try to make logic of everything. “I thought she was a runaway.”

 

Bellamy laughs, leaning on the handlebars of his bike as he turns to look past Octavia at me to his right. “She is,” he says, shaking out the mane of hair that’s shielding his ears from the air around us.

 

“Wanna know what makes it better?” Octavia snorts a small laugh, pushing her brother’s head back before turning to catch my confused gaze. “Her mother is SkyKru.”

  
Lexa fucking Forrester....


End file.
